The Menacing Maple
by ForestRose10
Summary: True Love's First Kill. Drew looked up at me. His dark eyes searched my face. There was something different about those too-familiar eyes. Maybe it was the way the orange light from the streetlamp illuminated his pupils. Maybe it was the way he stared without blinking. His eyes made him look... hungry. Contestshipping/Oldrivalsshipping :D
1. Prodigal

_**The Menacing Maple**_

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Bree Despain's book, **_The Dark Divine__**, **_**and to the people who created recognizable characters. I only did minor adjustments as I see fit.**

* * *

_**Sacrifice**_

_**Blood fills my mouth.**_

_**Fire sears my veins.**_

_**I choke back a howl.**_

_**The silver knife slips- the choice is mine**_

**I am death or life. **

**I am salvation or destruction.**

**Angel or demon.**

**I am may, a hope.**

**I plunge in the knife.**

**This is my sacrifice-**

**I **_**am **_**the monster.**

* * *

~_Chapter One_~

**Prodigal**

* * *

_**AFTER LUNCH**_

"May! You have _got _to see the new guy." Leaf bounded up to me in the junior hallway. Sometimes she reminded me of the cocker spaniel I used to own –she trembled in excitement over just about anything.

"Hottest guy ever?" I almost dropped my backpack. Stupid combination locker.

"No way. This guy is totally nasty. He got kicked out of his last two schools, _and _Dawn Berlitz says he's on parole." Leaf grinned. "Besides, everybody knows Gary is the hottest guy ever." She jabbed me in the side.

I did drop my backpack. My box of pastels dumped out at my feet and scattered across the floor. "_I _wouldn't know." I grumbled and squatted to pick up my shattered pastels. "Gary's my brother, remember?"

Leaf rolled her eyes. "He did ask about me at lunch, right?"

"Yeah" – I picked through the chalk bits – "he said, 'How's Leaf?' and I said 'She's fine,' and then he gave me half his turkey sandwich." I swear, if she had a disloyal bone in her body, I'd worry that Leaf was only my friend to get close to my brother – like half the other girls in this school.

"Hurry up," she said, glancing over her shoulder.

"You could help." I waved a broken pastel at her. "I just bought these on my way back from the café."

Leaf crouched and picked up a blue one. "What's with these anyway? I thought you were working with charcoal."

"I can't get it to look right." I plucked the piece of chalk from her fingers and placed it back in the box. "I'm starting over."

"But it's due tomorrow."

"I can't turn it in if it isn't right." I argued back.

"I don't think it looks that bad." Leaf said. "Besides, the new guy seems to like it."

"What?"

Leaf bounced up and grabbed my arm. "Come on. You have to see this." She sprang towards the art room, pulling me with her.

I clung to my pastels. "You are so weird."

Leaf laughed and quickened her pace.

"Here she comes," Ursula Bishop called as we rounded the corner to the art department. A group of students congregated in front of the doorway. They parted to either side as we approached. Melody la Rouge glanced at me and whispered something to Ursula.

"What's the big deal?" I asked.

Leaf pointed. "That is."

I stopped and stared at him. This guy more than pushed the limits of Holy Trinity's dress code in a holey Wolfsbane T-shirt and black, dingy jeans, shredded at the knees. His shaggy, dyed-black hair hid his face, and he held a large sheet of paper in his pale white hands. It was _my _charcoal drawing, and he was sitting in my seat.

I left the group of bystanders and strode up to the table. ""Excuse me, you're in my spot.

"Then you must be Maybellina," he said without looking up. Something about his raspy voice made my arm hairs stand on end.

I stepped back. "How'd you know my name?"

He pointed at the masking tape name tag on the supply bucket I'd left out during lunch. "Maybellina Divine Maple." He snorted. "Your parents must have some god complex. I bet your dad is a minister."

"Pastor. But that's none of your business."

He held my drawing in front of him. "Maybellina Divine Maple. They must expect great things from you."

"They do. Now move."

"This drawing is anything but great," he said. "You've got these branches all wrong, and that knot should be turned up, not down." He picked up one of my charcoals between his thin fingers and drew on the paper.

I was ticked off by his audacity, but what I couldn't believe was the ease with which he wove thick and thin black lines into striking charcoal branches. The same tree I'd been agonizing over all week came to life on the paper. He used the side of his pinky to smudge the coal on the trunk – a major 'don't' in Burgh's class, but the rough blending had just the righty effect for the tree's bark. I watched him shade along the bottom of the branches, but then he started to fix the knot on the lowest one. How could he have known what that knot was supposed to look like?

"Stop it," I said. "That's mine. Give it back." I grabbed at the paper but he pulled it away. "Hand it over!"

"Kiss me," he said.

I heard Leaf yelp.

"What?" I asked, not sure if I heard it correctly.

He leaned over the drawing. His face was still obscured by his shaggy hair, but a black stone pendent slipped out of his shirt. "Kiss me, and I'll give it back."

I grabbed his hand that held the charcoal. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"So you don't recognize me?" He looked up and pushed his hair out of his face. His cheeks were pale and hollow, but it was his eyes that made me gasp. The same intense and shining eyes I used to call "emerald jewels."

"Drew?" I let go of his hand. The charcoal pencil plinked onto the table. A million questions slammed against one another in my brain. "Does Gary know you're here?"

Drew wrapped his fingers around the black stone pendent that hung from his neck. His lips parted as if to speak.

Mr. Burgh came up to us, his arms crossed against his chest. "I told you to report to the counselors' office before joining this class," he said to Drew. "If you cannot respect me, young man, then perhaps you do not belong here."

"I was just leaving." Drew shoved back his chair and slumped past me, his dyed hair veiling his eyes. "See you later, May."

I looked at the charcoal drawing he left behind. The black lines laced together into the silhouette of a lone, familiar tree. I brushed past Mr. Burgh and the group of students in the hallway. "Drew!" I shouted. But the hallway was deserted.

Drew was good at disappearing. It's what he did best.

* * *

_**DINNER**_

I listened to forks and knives clinking on plates and dreaded my turn in the infamous Maple family daily ritual – the "so what did you do today?" part of dinner.

Dad went first. He was quite excited about the parish-sponsored charity drive. I'm sure it was a nice change for him. He'd been holed up studying in his private office so much lately that Gary and I joked that he must be trying to start his own religion. Mom told us about her new intern at the clinic, and that Baby Maximilian, Max for short, had learned the words _peas, apple, _and _turtle_ at day care. Charity reported that she got an A on her science test.

"I've got most of my friends to donate coats to the clothing drive," Gary announced when he finished cutting Baby Max's meat loaf into bite-sized pieces.

I wasn't surprised. Some people in Rose Crest tried to claim that Gary's goodness was just an act, but he really was that kind to person. I mean, who else would give up the freedom of senior year to do independent study at the partish three afternoons a week? Or fail to make the varsity to be aggressive enough. Sometimes it was hard being his younger sister,but it was nearly impossible _not _to love Gary.

I hated the thought of what my news might do tohim.

"That's great," Dad said to Gary.

"Yeah." He grinned. "Yesterday, I told everyone I was donating a coat and encouraged them to help out."

"Which coat are you giving away?" Mom asked.

"The red one."

"Your North Face? But that one's practically new."

"Because I've barely worn it in the last three years. It seems selfish to keep it in my closet when someone else could be using it."

"Gary's right," Dad said. "We need good-quality clothing. It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and they're already predicting another record-breaking winter."

"Yes!" Charity cheered. Mom grumbled. She never did understand why Minnesotans _rooted _for record-breaking cold.

I was moving my mashed potatoes around my plate with my fork when Dad turned to me and asked the question I was so not looking forward to. "You've been particularly quiet this evening, May. How was your day?"

I put down my fork. The hunk of meat loaf in my mouth felt like Styrofoam when I swallowed. "I saw Drew today."

Mom glanced up from trying to prevent Max from chucking his food across the table. The look that said, _We don't mention that name in our house_, passed over her eyes.

We discussed just about everything around out kitchen table: death, teen pregnancy, politics, and even religious injustice in the Sudan – but there was one topi8c we never talked about anymore: Drew.

Dad wiped his mouth with his napkin. "May, and Gary, I could use both of you at th parish tomorrow afternoon. We've had a great response to the charity drive. I can't even get into my office, it's packed so full of canned corn." He gave a slight chuckle.

I cleared my throat. "I talked to him."

Dad's laugh strangled off, almost like he was choking.

"Whoa," Charity said, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Way to go with the revelations, May."

Gary slid back his chair."May I be excused?" he asked, and put his napkin on the table. He didn't wait for a response and walked out of the kitchen.

I glanced at Mom. _Now look what you did_, her eyes seemed to say.

"Peas!" Max shouted. He threw a handful of them at my face.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and left the table.

* * *

_**LATER**_

I found Gary sitting on the front porch, wrapped in the blue afghan from the couch. His breath made white puffs in front of his face.

"It's freezing, Gary. Come inside."

"I'm fine."

I knew he wasn't. Few things ever upset Gary. He didn't like the way some girls at school would say cruel things and then pass it off as "just kidding." He hated it when people used the Lord's name in vain, and he absolutely couldn't tolerate anyone who claimed the Wild would never win the Stanley Cup. But Gary didn't scream, or yell when he was mad. He got real quiet and folded into himself.

I rubbed my arms for warmth and sat next to him on the steps. "I'm sorry that I spoke to Drew. I didn't mean to make you mad."

Gary massaged the parallel scars that scraped across the back of his left hand. It was something he did a lot. I wonder if he was even conscious of it. "I'm not mad," he finally said. "I'm worried."

"About Drew?"

"About you." Gary looked into my eyes. We had the same nose and chocolate brown hair, but our eyes were different, mine being sapphire blue and his peat greenish-black. We may have different color eyes, but that didn't stop me from seeing how much pain reflected in his gaze. "I know the way you feel about him…"

"Felt. That was more than three years ago. I was just a kid then."

"You're still a child."

I wanted to say something snide, like, _So are you_, because he was barely a year older than me. But I knew he wasn't trying to be mean when he said it. I jut wished that Gary would realize that I was seventeen; I'd been dating and driving for almost a year now.

Cold air seeped through my thin cotton sweater. I was about to go inside when Gary took my hand in his.

"May, will you promise me something?"

"What?"

"If you see Drew again, promise me that you won't talk to him?"

"But –"

"Listen to me," he said. "Drew is dangerous. He isn't the person he used to be. You have to promise to stay away from him."

I twisted my fingers in the yarn of the blanket.

"I'm serious, May. You have to promise."

"Okay, fine. I will."

Gary squeezed my hand and looked off into the distance. It seemed like he was staring a million miles away, but I knew that his gaze rested upon the weathered walnut tree – the one I'd been trying to draw in art class –that separated our yard from the neighbor's. I wondered if he was thinking about that night, three years ago, when he last saw Drew – the last time any of us saw him.

"What happened?"I whispered. It had been a long time since I'd had the nerve to ask him that question. My family acted as if it was noting. But _nothing _wasn't bad enough to explain why Charity and I were sent away to our grandparents for three weeks. Families don't stop talking about something that was _nothing_. _Nothin _didn't explain the thin white scar – like the ones on his hand – above my brother's left eye.

"You're not supposed to say bad things about the dead," Gary mumbled.

I shook my head. "Drew isn't dead."

"He is to me." Gary's face was void of any emotion, wearing a blank mask. I'd never heard him talk like that before.

I sucked in a breath of frigid air and stared at him, wishing I could read the thoughts behind his stony eyes.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"No, May, I really can't. "

His words stung. I pulled my hand out of his grasp. I didn't know how else to respond.

Gary stood up. "Leave it alone," he said softly as he draped the afghan over my shoulders. He went up the stairs, and I heard the screen door click shut. The television's blue light flickered through the front window.

A large black dog padded across the deserted street. It stopped under the walnut tree and looked up in my direction. The dog's tongue lolled out in a pant. Its eyes fixed on me, glinting with blue light. My shoulders collapsed with a shiver, and I shifted my gaze up to the tree.

It had snowed before Halloween, but it had all melted away within the next few days, and it probably wouldn't snow again until Christmas. In the meantime, everything in the yard was crusty and brown and yellow, except for the walnut tree, which creaked with the wind. It was white as ash and stood like a wavering ghost in the light of the full moon.

Drew had been right about my drawing. The branches _were _all wrong, and the knot in the lowest one should have been turned up. Mr. Burgh had asked us to illustrate something that reminded us of our childhood. All I could see was that old tree when I looked at my piece of paper. But in the past three years, I had made it a point to avert my eyes when I passed it. It hurt to think about it-to think about Drew. Now, as I sat on the porch, watching that old tree sway in the moonlight, it seemed to stir my memories until I couldn't help remembering.

The afghan slipped off my shoulders as I stood. I glanced back at the front-room window and then to the tree. The dog was gone. It may sound weird, but I was glad that dog wasn't watching as I went around to the side of the porch and crouched between the barberry bushes. I braved a nasty scratch on my hand as I felt under the porch for something I wasn't even sure was there anymore. My fingertips brushed something cold. I reached farther in and slid it out.

The metal lunch box felt like an ice block in my bare hands. It was spotted with rust, but I could still make out the faded Mickey Mouse logo as I wiped years' worth of grime off the lid. It came from a time that seemed so long ago. It used to be a treasure box where Gary, Drew, and I kept our special things like pogs, and baseball cards, and that strange long tooth we found in the woods behind the house. But now it was a small metal coffin-a box that held the memories I wished would die.

I opened the lid and pulled out a tattered leather sketchbook. I flipped through the musty pages until I found the last sketch. It was of a face I had drawn over and over again because I could never get it right. He had hair so green it was almost like a glistening emerald then, not shaggy and black and unwashed. He had a dimple in his chin and a wry, almost devious smile. But it was his eyes that always eluded me. I could never capture their deepness with my simple pencil strokes. His eyes were so dark, so deep. Like the rich emeralds we pound at the bottom of the lake –they were emerald-jewel eyes.

* * *

**MEMORIES**

"You want it? Come and get it. " Drew tucked the bottle of turpentine behind his back and lunged sideways like he was going to run away.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the trunk of the tree. I'd already chased him through the house, across the front yard, and around the walnut tree a couple of times-all because he'd sneaked into the kitchen while I was working and stole my bottle of paint remover without saying a word. "Give it back, now. "

"Kiss me, " Daniel said.

"What?"

"Kiss me, and I'll give it back. " He fingered the moon-shaped knot in the lowest branch of the tree and flashed me a devious grin. "You know you want to. "

My cheeks flamed. I wanted to kiss him with all the longing in my eleven-and-a-half-year-old heart, and I knew he knew it. Drew and Gary had been best friends since they were two, and I –only a year younger – had trailed behind them since I was old enough to walk. Gary never minded when I wanted to tag along. Drew hated it –but then again, only a girl could play Queen Amidala to Drew's Anakin and Gary's Obi-Wan Kenobi. And despite all Drew's teasing, he was my first real crush.

"I'll tell, " I said lamely.

"No, you won't. " Drew leaned forward, still grinning. "Now kiss me. "

"Drew!" his mother shrieked from the open window of his house. "You better come clean up this paint!"

Drew shot straight up, his eyes wide with panic. He looked at the bottle in his hand. "Please, May? I need it. "

"You could have asked in the first place. "

"Get in here, boy!" his father roared out the window.

Drew's hands shook. "Please?"

I nodded, and he ran toward his house. I hid behind the tree and listened to his father yell at him. I don't remember what Drew's father said. It wasn't his words that ripped me open; it was the sound of his voice –getting deeper and more like a vicious snarl as he went on. I sank into the grass, with my knees pulled to my chest, and wished I could do something to help.

That was almost five and a half years before I saw him in Burgh's class today. It was two years and seven months before he disappeared. But only one year before he came to live with us. One year before he became our brother.

* * *

**Hello! Yes, I know that I should be working on Dusk Awakening, but…I just had to! The plot bunnies wouldn't standstill! I'll upload the next chapter for DA next. But enough of DA; My new inspiration! The Menacing Maple! Whoop! I'd love your support and your reviews 'cause they are what keep me going! Until next time! :D**

**Forest Rose**


	2. Promises, Promises

_~Chapter Two~_

**Promises, Promises**

* * *

**_THE NEXT DAY, FOURTH PERIOD _**

My mother had this weird rule about secrets. When I was four, she sat me down and explained that I was never to keep one. A few minutes later I marched up to Gary and told him my parents got him a Lego castle for his birthday. Gary started to cry, and Mom sat me back down and told me that a surprise was something everyone would eventually know, and a secret was something no one else was ever supposed to find out. She looked me right in the eyes and told me in this real serious tone that secrets were wrong and no one had the right to ask me to keep one.

I wish she'd set the same rule for promises.

The problem with promises is that once you've made one, it's bound to be broken. It's like an unspoken cosmic rule. If Dad says, "Promise you won't be late for curfew," the car is fated to break down, or your watch will magically stop working, and your parents refuse to get you a cell phone so you can't just call and tell them you're running behind.

Seriously, no one should have the right to ask you to keep a promise – especially if they don't consider all the facts.

It was completely unfair of Gary to make me promise not to have anything to do with Drew. He didn't take into account that Drew was back in our school now. He didn't have the same memories that I had. I didn't intend to speak to Drew again, but the only problem was – because Gary had made me promise not to – I was afraid of what I might do.

That fear gripped the breath in my chest as I stood outside the art-department door. My sweating palm slipped on the knob as I tried to turn it. Finally, I pushed the door open and looked to the table in the front row.

"Hey, May, " someone said.

It was Leaf. She sat in the seat next to my empty chair. She snapped her gum as she unpacked her pastels. "Did you catch that documentary on Edward Hopper we were supposed to watch last night? My DVR totally had a meltdown. "

"No. I guess I missed it." I scanned the room for Drew. Ursula Bishop sat in the back row, gossiping with Bianca de Louise. Mr. Burgh worked on his latest "pro-recycling" sculpture at his desk, and a few students trickled into the classroom before the bell.

"Oh, crap. Do you think there's going to be a quiz?" Leaf asked.

"This is art class. We paint pictures while listening to classic rock. " I checked the room one last time. "I doubt there are going to be quizzes. "

"Boy, you're crabby today."

"Sorry." I got my supply bucket out from the cubbies and sat in the seat next to her. "I guess I've got a lot on my mind."

My tree drawing sat on top of the bucket. I told myself to hate it. I told myself to rip it up and throw it away. Instead, I picked it up and traced the perfect lines, my finger just above the paper so I wouldn't smudge the charcoal.

"I don't get why you even care about him," Leaf said for the sixth time since yesterday. "I mean, I thought you said that drew guy was hot."

I stared down at the drawing. "He used to be."

The tardy bell rang. A few seconds later the door creaked open. I looked up and expected to see Drew. The same way I used to expect to run into him at the mall or see him slip around a corner downtown after he disappeared.

But it was Brendan Bradshaw who came through the door. He was an office aide fourth period. He waved to Leaf and me as he delivered a note to Mr. Burgh.

"Now he's cute," Leaf whispered, and waved back. "I can't believe he's your chem. lab partner."

I was about to wave also, but then I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Brendan dropped the note on Burgh's desk and came over to us.

"We missed you last night," he said to me.

"Last night?"

"The library. We had a study group for the chemistry test. " Brendan rapped his knuckles on the table. "You were supposed to bring the donuts this time. "

"I was?" That sinking feeling got deeper. I'd sat out on the porch last night, thinking about Drew, until I was practically a Popsicle, and had forgotten all about our study group – and the test. "I'm sorry. Something came up." I fingered the drawing.

"I'm just glad you're okay." Brendan grinned and pulled a roll of papers from his back pocket. "You can borrow my notes during lunch if you want."

"Thanks. " I blushed. "I'll need them. " "More painting, less talking, " Mr. Burgh bellowed.

"Later." Brendan winked and left the room.

"He is so going to ask you to the Christmas dance," Leaf whispered.

"No way." I looked at my drawing and couldn't remember what I'd planned on doing next. "Brendan doesn't like me like that."

"What, are you blind?" Leaf said a little too loudly.

Mr. Burgh glared at her.

"Pastels are far superior to charcoals," Leaf said, trying to cover. She glanced at the teacher's desk and then whispered, "Brendan is so into you. Ursula said that Misty told her that Dawn Berlitz said that Brendan thinks you're hot and he wants to ask you out."

"Really?"

"Really. " She waggled her eyebrows. "You are so lucky."

"Yeah. Lucky. " I looked down at Brendan's notes and then at the drawing. I knew I should feel lucky. Brendan was what Leaf called a "triple threat" – a cute senior, a hockey player, and a total brain. Not to mention, one of Gary's best friends. But it seemed strange to feel lucky that someone liked me. Luck shouldn't have anything to do with it.

Twenty minutes later, there was still no sign of Drew when Burgh got up from his desk and stood in front of the class. He stroked his multicoloured scarf, which draped over his shoulders and around his neck in a stylish sense. "I think we'll try something new today, " he said. "Something to challenge your minds along with your creativity. How about we have a pop quiz on Edward Hopper?"

There was a collective groan from the class.

"Oh, crap," Leaf whispered.

"Oh, crap," I whispered back.

* * *

**_THE LUNCH BREAK_**

Mr. Burgh cleared his throat over and over again in irritation as he handed back our quizzes. He returned to his sculpture and twisted a wire around an empty Pepsi can with melodramatic jerks.

When the lunch bell rang, he cleared out of the art room with the rest of the students. Leaf and I stayed behind. AP art was a two-period class with a lunch break in the middle. But Leaf and I were the only juniors, so we usually kept working through lunch to show Mr. Burgh that we were serious enough to be in his advanced class – except on the days Gary invited us to eat with him and his friends at the Rose Crest Cafe (the off-campus lunchtime haven for popular seniors).

Leaf sat next to me, perfecting the shading on her pastel drawing of roller skates while I tried to study Brendan's notes. But the more I tried to concentrate, the more the words on the pages jumbled into an unintelligible mess. That sinking feeling I had before seemed to churn inside me until it turned into trembling anger and I couldn't think about anything else. How dare Drew show up after all this time and then disappear again. No explanations. No apologies. No closure.

I knew there could be a million reasons why he hadn't shown up today, but I was sick and tired of excusing his behaviour. Like when he'd steal food out of my sack lunches, or whenever his teasing got too intense, or when he'd forget to return my art supplies – I'd chalk it up to all the stuff he'd been through in his life and let it slide. But I wouldn't excuse how he'd crept back into my life just long enough to cause me to disappoint my parents, upset my brother, ditch out on Brendan, bomb a quiz, and potentially fail my chemistry test. I felt so stupid, wasting my time thinking about him, and now he didn't even have the decency to show up. Now I really wanted to see him one more time. Just long enough to tell him off ... Or smack his face ... Or something worse.

Drew's tree drawing sat on the table taunting me. I hated the way it seemed so perfect, with its smooth, entangled lines that I never could have drawn myself. I picked up the drawing, marched over to the waste-basket, and unceremoniously chucked it in.

"Good riddance," I said to the trash can.

"Okay, now I know you're insane," Leaf said. "That's due in like an hour. "

"It wasn't mine anyway – not anymore."

* * *

**Hello you fantastic readers! I feel so glad that you all are enjoying this story! Oh, I'll try to update on a weekly basis, but it might become delayed sometimes due to school work...9th grade hasn't started yet, but once it does...yeah :P You've all been great, and I'd like to give a shout out to my followers/alerters! As well as the reviewers! Keep an eye out for the next chapter! But before I end this, I'd like to reply to my reviewers! :D**

_theasianwonder_: **Haha, thanks! Yes, I will try to update Dusk Awakening at the same time I update this story and my Transformers one, but it makes me glad that you are enjoying my stories! :D Thank you for your encouragements!**

_TheRealContestshippingPrince ss_: **:D Glad to know that I'm keeping you on the edge of your seat! But this is just the beginning...more drama will come up, I can ensure you of that!**

_laurenkams_: **I know right? When I first read it, I imagined that happening with my BFF saying stuff like that about my brother...let's just say I got whacked by a few pillows once I told her that... :P **

_AdorableMe_: **Getting excited huh? Yay! But I'm warning you, if you thought the beginning gets exciting, just wait till you read the rest!**

**Forest~Rose**


	3. Tabula Rasa

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Bree Despain's book, **_The Dark Divine__**, and to the people who created recognizable characters. I only did minor adjustments as I see fit.**_

* * *

_~Chapter Three~_

**Tabula Rasa**

* * *

**WHAT HAPPENED AFTER LUNCH**

When art class started up again, I pulled out a crisp new piece of drawing paper and shot off a sketch of my favourite childhood doll – an Eevee. It wasn't exactly up to par with my usual work – actually it wasn't up to par with my usual work when I was nine – but Mr. Burgh had a "no tolerance" policy for not finishing an assignment. I figured shoddy work was better than no work, and slipped it under the stack of drawings on Burgh's desk before leaving class. Leaf hung back to discuss her portfolio, and I strolled off to my chemistry test with only slightly less foreboding. My stomach felt better once I decided to forget I'd ever seen Drew, but as far as the test? Well, my mother was not going to be happy. I'd managed to go over Brendan 's notes a couple of times before lunch ended, but even if I'd had a full night of studying, I'd be lucky to pull a C. I'm not a bad student. I have a 3. 8 GPA, but I'm most definitely right-brained.

AP chem. was my mom's idea. Dad loved it when I worked on my paintings at the kitchen counter. He said it reminded him of his days in art school before he decided to join the clergy like his father and grandfather. But Mom wanted me to "keep my options open"-which meant she wanted me to become a psychologist, or a nurse like her.

I slipped into my seat next to Brendan Bradshaw and drew in a deep breath, preparing to let out a languid sigh to prove I wasn't nervous, and was caught off guard by the clean, spicy scent of my chem. lab partner. Brendan had gym fifth period, and his hair was still damp from the shower. I'd noticed his scent of citrusy soap and fresh-applied deodorant before, but today it filled my senses and made me want to scoot closer to him. I guess it had something to do with what Leaf said about his liking me.

I fumbled around in my backpack for my notebook and dropped my pen three times before I got it to rest neatly at the top of my desk.

"Feeling a little weak in the knees?" Brendan asked.

"What?" My chem. book took a dive off the desk.

"Test jitters?" Brendan retrieved my book. "Everybody's freaking. You should've seen it, Dawn Berlitz only wolfed down down half a supreme pizza for lunch. I thought that was bad, but you look like you've just seen the Markham Street Monster. "

I winced. That joke had never been funny to me. I snatched the book out of his hands, "I'm not nervous at all." I drew in another deep breath and forced out a long, calm sigh.

Brendan flashed me one of his "triple threat" smiles, and my book hit the floor again. I chuckled as he picked it up, and I felt too warm in my sweater when he handed it back.

Why am I such a dumb girl? I mean, seriously, get it together.

There was only one other boy who could make me feel stupid like that, but since I wasn't going to give him a second thought, I turned my focus to Mrs. Lenora as she passed out her thick stack of tests.

"Hey, Dawn, and I are going bowling at Waterflower's after practice," Brendan leaned in with his lingering scent. "You should come,"

"Me?" I glanced up at Mrs. Lenora as she put an upside-down test in front of me.

"Yeah. You and Gary. It'll be fun." Brendan nudged me and grinned. "You can buy me that box of donuts you owe me. "

"Gary and I are supposed to help Dad with his deliveries to the shelter. "

Brendan actually looked disappointed for a split second, but then he perked up. "Well, how about I come over to help you after practice. It'll take, what, a couple of hours? Then we can bowl. "

"Really? That would be great. "

"Eyes up front," Mrs. Lenore said. "Your test begins" – she tapped her watch – "now."

Brendan grinned and flipped his test over. I turned mine over and wrote my name at the top. That warm, bubbly sensation you get when you know something fresh and exciting is beginning swept through my body.

* * *

**Hey, sorry for the long wait! This chapter was more of boring filler, sadly, so I'm going to add the next chapter up along with this! =D Than you for all your reviews! My laptop is still lagging and it's affecting my work drastically! Every time I work on Word, it hangs up and closes! This is my second time, **_**re-writing **_**this paragraph, as well as everything below. *Sigh* Why me? Oh, and BTW, my school is opening up again on this coming Monday, so sadly things are going to go a bit slower... =(**

**animeartist123: **Thank you for those nice words! It's alright that you didn't review on the first chapter (even though you did afterwards =) ), it's the thought that counts! =D

**theasianwonder: **Yep, Drew will be clouding May's thoughts for a while now =D Oh, and about me misspelling your name, yes, you were right; I did misspell it. As soon as I got your message, I logged into FanFiction and immediately corrected my mistakes. I'm so sorry! I didn't do it on purpose! Thank you for the observation and your support during my May x Drew fics =D

**AdorableMe: **Really? You were reading this in the desert? I hope you had some shade and a nice cool drink with you! =D (...I'm suddenly craving for some Lemon Ice Tea... I'm more of winter person...*melts*) =P Thank you for those words! They keep an author on the run!

**Left-to-die: **Well, I can't tell you what's up with Drew, now can I? No, that would be no fun. But, Drew will be making an appearance VERY soon. Yeah, me too, I've seen him as the kind to have black hair and some piercings...at least, when he's mad...

**LoveLovergrl: **Thanks for the coolness! =D

**(Guest): **Aww, thank you very much! You have no idea how much that means to me! I didn't think that I was that good, honestly, but thank you! =D

**Forest~Rose**


	4. Dvine Intervention

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Bree Despain's book,**_The Dark Divine__**,**_**and to the people who created recognizable characters. I only did minor adjustments as I see fit.**

* * *

_~Chapter Four~_

**D-vine Intervention**

* * *

**IN THE MAIN HALL, AT THE END OF SCHOOL**

"Why didn't you tell me in English class, you dork?" Leaf sidestepped around a sign-up booth for the spirit club's holiday fund-raiser. "I told you he was going to ask you out!"

"It's not a date, " I said with a smile.

"Who asked you out?" Gary asked, coming out of the main office right in front of Leaf and me. His question sounded more like an accusation, and his expression looked as cloudy as the winter sky beyond the hall's windows.

"No one, " I said.

"Brendan Bradshaw!" Leaf practically squealed. "He asked her on a date for tonight. "

"It's not a date. " I rolled my eyes at Leaf. "He offered to help out over at the parish after practice this afternoon, and then he wants to go bowling. You're invited, too, " I said to Gary.

Gary jangled the parish's truck keys in his hand. I wasn't sure how he'd feel about my being interested in one of his friends –especially considering the last friend of his I'd liked. But Gary's expression brightened as he smiled. "It's about time Brendan asked you out. "

"See!" Leaf pinched my arm. "I told you he likes you.

Gary playfully punched Leaf in the arm. "So are you coming this time?"

Leaf's cheeks flared red. "Uh ... No. I can't. " Little splotches of crimson spread from her face to her ears. "I, uh, I, have to ... "

"Work?" I offered.

I knew from experience that no amount of coaxing was going to get her to come. Leaf was absolutely mortified that Gary would think she was just a tagalong. Even getting her to occasionally eat lunch at the cafe with Gary and me was as difficult as taking a dog to the vet.

"Work ... Yeah, um, that. " Leaf hitched her pink Jan Sport backpack up on her shoulder. "I've gotta get going. See you later, " she said, and scurried off to the main doors.

"She's ... Interesting, " Gary said as he watched her leave.

"Yep, that she definitely is. "

"So ... " Gary looped his arm around my shoulder, leading me through a throng of sophomores toward the exit. "Tell me more about this date. " "It's not a date."

* * *

**AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER**

"Pastor D-vine is truly an angel of the Lord, " Harley Quinn said in awe as he scanned the jam-packed social hall of the parish. There were boxes upon boxes of food and clothing –and Gary and I were in charge of sorting through all of them. "I hope you still need these. " Harley adjusted the large box of tuna cans in his arms. "I got them from the market, and I even remembered to pay for them this time. You can call Mr. Giovanni if you want. But if you Harley't need them ... "

"Thank you, Harley, " Gary said. "Every Harleyation helps, and we especially need high-protein foods like tuna. Right, May?"

I nodded and tried to pack one last coat into the bulging box marked men's . I gave up and dropped it into a half-empty women's box.

"And it was good of you to remember to pay Mr. Giovanni, " Gary said to Harley.

A huge grin spread across Harley's face. He was as lean as a cactus **(lol, I had to add that :P)**, and his smile resembled a snarl. "You kids are truly D-vine. Just like your father. "

"We do no more than anyone else, " Gary said in that diplomatic voice he picked up from Dad that let him be humble but contradict someone at the same time. He grunted as he triedto lift the box out of Harley's burly arms. "Wow, you brought a lot of tuna. "

"Anything to help the D-vines. God's angels, you are.

Harley wasn't the only one who treated our family like a group of celestial beings. Dad always said the pastor over at New Hope taught from the same good book as he did, but most everyone wanted to hear the gospel from Pastor Divine. At first, I was wondering why Dad went with the family middle name instead of his last name, Maple, but he answered that the name – and word – divine would give a deeper hope and connection to the people of the parish.

What would they think if they knew our last name used to be Divinovich? My great-great-grandfather had changed his surname to Maple and kept 'Divine' as the family middle name when he immigrated to America, and my great-grandpa found it came in handy when he joined the clergy.

I often found it a hard name to live up to.

"Well, how about I let you carry that box out back. " Gary clapped Harley on the arm. "You can help us load the truck for the shelter. "

Harley paraded his hefty box through the social hall with his trademark snarl/grin on his face. Gary picked up my box of men's coats and followed him out the back door.

My shoulders relaxed once Harley was gone. He was always lurking around the parish 'wanting to help,' but I usually tried to avoid him. I wouldn't tell my dad or brother this, but I still felt uneasy around Harley. I couldn't help it. He reminded me of Lenny from Of Mice and Men –the way he was kind of slow and well meaning but could snap your neck with one movement of his baseball-mitt-sized hands.

I still couldn't shake the memory of the violence that lived in those hands.

Five years ago, Gary and I (and that person whose name starts with a D and ends in an rew) were helping Dad clean up the sanctuary when Harley Quinn stumbled through the chapel doors for the first time. Dad greeted him nicely despite his dirty clothes and sour stench, but Harley grabbed my father and pulled a tarnished knife to his throat, demanding money.

I was so scared I almost broke my cardinal "May does not cry" rule. But Dad never faltered –even when blood started to roll down his neck. He pointed up at the big stained-glass balcony windows that depicted Christ knocking on a wooden door.

"Ask and ye shall receive, " he said, and promised to help Harley get what he really needed: a job and a place to live. It wasn't long before Harley became Dad's most devoted parishioner. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten the way we met him. But I couldn't.

Did that make me the only Divinovich in a family full of Divines/Maples?

* * *

**EVENING**

"I don't know what to tell you, May. " Brendan lowered the hood of my father's decade-and-a-half-old, teal-green Toyota Corolla. "I think we're stranded. "

I wasn't at all surprised when the car didn't start up again. Charity and I regularly lobbied for my parents to get rid of the Corolla and buy a new Highlander, but Dad always shook his head and said, 'How would it look if we got a new car when this one runs fine?' Of course, Dad meant 'runs' in a relative sort of way. As in, if you said a heartfelt prayer and promised the Lord to use the car to help the needy, it usually started on the third or fourth turn of the ignition. But this time I wasn't sure if even divine intervention could get the car moving.

"I think I saw a gas station a couple of blocks back, " Brendan said. "Maybe I should walk there and get some help. "

"That gas station is closed. " I breathed on my frozen hands. "It's been abandoned for a while."

Brendan looked back and forth down the street. Nothing much was visible outside the veil of orange light cast from the streetlamp. The night's sky was completely blotted out by clouds, and a frigid wind tousled Brendan's rusty hair. "Of all the nights to forget to charge my cell phone. "

"At least you have one, " I said. "My parents are seriously stuck in the twentieth century. "

Brendan only half smiled. "Well, I guess I'll go find a pay phone, " he grumbled.

Suddenly, I felt like all of this was my fault. Only a few minutes before, Brendan and I had been joking about Dawn Berlitz's hiccupping fit during the chem. test. Brendan looked at me when we laughed at the same time, and our eyes met in that cosmic sort of way. Then the car made this horrible clunking noise and lurched to a stop in an alley on our way to the shelter.

"I'll come with you. " I flinched at the sound of shattering glass in the not-so-far distance. "It'll be an adventure. "

"No. Someone needs to stay with this stuff. "

The Corolla was packed full of the boxes that didn't fit in the truck. But I wasn't sure I was the one who should stay behind to protect it. "I'll go. You've done enough already. "

"No way, May. Pastor or not, your dad would kill me if I let you walk by yourself in this part of town. " Brendan opened the car door and pushed me inside. "You'll be safer –and warmer – in here."

"But ..."

"No. " Brendan pointed to the squatty building across the street. I could hear a couple of guys shouting at each other from one of the broken windows. "I'll just go knock on the door of one of those apartments. "

"Yeah, right, " I said. "Your best bet is the shelter. It's a mile or so that way. " I pointed down the dark street. We were parked under the only working lamp on the block. "There are mostly apartments along the way, and a couple of bars. But stay away from those unless you want to get your teeth kicked in. "

Brendan smirked. "You spend a lot of time on the mean streets?"

"Something like that. " I frowned. "Hurry ... And be careful, okay?"

Brendan leaned in through the doorway with one of his triple-threat grins. "This is some date, huh?" he said, and kissed me on the cheek.

My face prickled with heat. "So this is a date?"

Brendan chuckled and rocked back on his heels. "Lock the car. " He shut the door and shoved his hands into the pockets of his letterman's jacket.

I clicked the door lock and watched him kick an empty beer can as he walked away. I couldn't see him once he left the light of the streetlamp. I scrunched down in my coat for warmth and sighed. It might be going badly, but at least I was on a date with Brendan Bradshaw, sort of.

_**Sc-rape**_

I shot straight up. Was that the shuffle of gravel on the pavement? Was Brendan back already? I looked around. Nothing. I checked the passenger's-side door. It was locked. I sat back and rested my hand on Brendan's hockey stick, which lay in between the front seats.

I had almost died when Harley Quinn asked if he could ride along with Brendan and me in the Corolla. I couldn't tell if he was clueless or if he thought we needed a chaperone. Luckily, Gary had saved me by plunking down a box of women's coats on the backseat of the car. "No room here, " he said, and convinced Harley to squeeze into the truck with Dad and him.

They pulled out first and Brendan and I followed, but I had to drop off a bag from the pharmacy to Delia Ketchum on the way. Even though she looked tired, she invited us in for some rhubarb pie –she makes the best ever. But I knew she'd give Brendan the third degree worse than my real grandmother, so I promised to stay longer the next time I came. Then, to make up time, when we got into the city, I took the shortcut down Markham Street, a decision I totally regretted at the moment.

Things had been quieter for the past few years, but this area of the city had once been infamous for strange happenings and disappearances. And then, on a monthly basis, dead bodies had started turning up like daisies. The police and the newspapers speculated about a serial killer-but others talked about a hairy beast that stalked the city by night. They called it the Markham Street Monster.

Nonsense, right?

Like I said, it had been years since something truly weird had happened around here, but I still found myself wondering if I'd be better off now if Harley had come with us. Would I feel more or less uneasy if Harley were alone in this alley with me?

More!

That thought was followed by an instant surge of guilt. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, trying to stay calm. For some reason, I thought about the time I'd asked my father why he'd helped someone who'd hurt him.

"You know the meaning of your name maiden name, don't you, May?" **(Oh, if you're wondering May's full name, here it is: Maybella** (first name)** Grace **(Maiden name)** Divine **(family middle name)** Maple **(surname)**)**

"Yes. It means heavenly help, guidance, or mercy, " I'd said, repeating what my father had always told me.

"No one can make it in this life without May. We all need help, " he'd said. "There's a difference between people who do hurtful things because they're evil and people who do bad things because of their circumstances. Some people are desperate because they don't know how to ask for His grace. "

"But how do you know if someone is bad or if they just need help?"

"God is the ultimate judge of what is truly in our souls. But we are required to forgive everyone."

My father left the conversation at that. To be honest, I was more confused than ever. What if the person who hurt you didn't deserve to be forgiven? What if what they'd done was so terrible –?

_**Sc-rape. Sc-rape.**_

It was the shifting of gravel again. On both sides of the car now? I gripped the hockey stick. "Brendan?" No response.

_**Rattle. Rattle.**_

The door handle?! Electricity shot up my spine and surged through my arms. My heart hammered in my chest, and my lungs ached with heavy breaths. I peeredout the window. Why couldn't I see anything?

_**Rattle, rattle, rattle.**_

The car shook. I screamed. A high, piercing noise echoed outside the car. The windows moaned and shrieked like they were about to shatter. I smashed my hands over my ears and screamed louder. The noise died. Something clanked on the asphalt outside my door. My pulse pounded in my ears – it sounded like running footsteps.

Silence.

Every nerve seared under my skin. I shifted and heard the rattling again. It was just my shaking knee against the dangling keys in the ignition. I let out a short laugh and closed my eyes. I waited, listening to the silence, for as long as I could hold my breath. I let it out in a long sigh and eased my grip on the hockey stick.

_**Tap, tap, tap.**_

My eyes popped open. My arm flew up. I whacked my head with the hockey stick.

A shadowed face stared at me through the fogged window.

"Pop the hood," a muffled voice said. It wasn't Brendan.

"Get lost!" I shouted, trying to make my voice sound huskier.

"Do it," he said. "It'll be okay, Maybella. I promise. " I put my hand to my mouth. I knew that voice. I knew that face. Before I could stop myself, I said, "Okay, " and pulled the hood release.

His footsteps scraped against the frozen pavement as he walked around to the front of the car. I opened the door and saw a crowbar lying at my feet. My spine tingled as I stepped over it and followed Drew. His head and shoulders disappeared under the hood, but I could see he wore the same ratty jeans and T-shirt from yesterday. Did he even own another set of clothes?

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Drew twisted off the cap to something in the engine and pulled up an oily metal stick. "You dating that Bradshaw guy?" He screwed the cap back on. He was being so matter-of-fact I wondered if I'd dreamed all that commotion.

Could I have fallen asleep while waiting for Brendan? But that crowbar wasn't there before. "What just happened?" I asked. "Were you watching me?"

"You didn't answer my question. "

"You aren't answering mine. " I took a step toward him. "Did you see what happened?" Did you stop what almost happened?

"Maybe. "

I ducked under the hood so I could see him better. "Tell me. "

Drew wiped his greasy hands on his pants. "Just some kids playing around. "

"With a crowbar?"

"Yeah, they're all the rage these days. "

"And you expect me to just believe that?"

Drew shrugged. "You can believe whatever want, but that's all I saw. " Drew fiddled with something else in the engine. "Your turn, " he said. "You going out with Bradshaw?"

"Maybe. "

"You picked a real prince, " he said sarcastically.

"Brendan's a nice guy. "

Drew snorted. "I'd watch out for that prick if I were you. "

"Shut up!" I grabbed one of his bare arms. His skin was like ice. "How dare you say things like that about my friends. How dare you come back here and try to weasel your way into my life! Stop following me around. " I yanked him away from my father's car. "Get lost and leave me alone. "

Drew chuckled. "Same old Maybella, " he said. "You're just as bossy as ever. Always ordering people around. 'Tell me. ' 'Get lost. ' 'Give it back. ' 'Shut up.' Does your daddy know you talk like that?" He wrenched his arm out of my grasp and turned back to the engine. "Just let me get you moving, and then you'll never have to see my filthy face again. "

I stood back and watched his movements. Drew had that way about him that could shut me down in an instant. I rubbed my hands together and jumped up and down to generate some heat. Most Minnesotans have thick blood, but how could Drew even stand to be outside in only short sleeves? I kicked the gravel a couple of times and worked up my courage again. "Tell me ... I mean ... Why did you come back? Why now, after all this time?'"

Drew looked up at me. His dark eyes searched my face. There was something different about those too-familiar eyes. Maybe it was the way the orange light from the streetlamp illuminated his pupils. Maybe it was the way he stared without blinking. His eyes made him look ... Hungry.

He dropped his gaze. "You wouldn't understand. "

I folded my arms. "Wouldn't I?"

Drew turned to the engine, hesitated, and then looked back at me. "You ever been to the MoMA?" he asked.

"The Museum of Modern Art? No. I've never been to New York. "

"I ended up there a while back. You know they have cell phones, and iPods, and even vacuums in the MoMA? I mean, they're everyday things, but at the same time they're art. " His voice seemed softer and less raspy. "The way the lines curve and the pieces fit together. It's functional art that you can hold in your hand, and it changes the way you live your life. "

"So?"

"So?" He came up real close to me. "Somebody designed those things. Somebody does that for a living. "

He stepped even closer, his face only inches from mine. My breath caught.

"That's what I want to do, " he said.

The passion in his voice made my heart beat faster. But his hungry stare made me step farther away.

Drew slumped back to the engine and yanked something loose. "Only that's never going to happen now. " He leaned forward, and his black stone pendant dangled from his neck over the open engine block.

"Why?"

"You know the Trenton Art Institute?"

I nodded. Almost every senior in my AP art class was shooting for admission into Trenton. Usually only one student made it per year.

"They have the best industrial design department in the country. I took some of my paintings and designs there. This woman, Ms. Claire, looked them over. She said I have promise" – his voice skirted around the word like it was bitter to the taste – "but I need more training. She said if I get my diploma and graduate from a respectable art program, she'd give me another chance for admission. "

"That's great, isn't it?" I shuffled closer. How did he always do that– make me completely forget I was mad at him so easily?

"The problem is, Holy Trinity has one of the few art departments that Trenton even deems worthy as a prerequisite. That's why I came back. " He glanced at me. It seemed like there was something else he wanted to say, something more to the story. He brushed the pendant that rested against his chest. It was a smooth black stone shaped like a flattened oval. "Only that Burgh guy kicked me out the first day. "

"What?" I knew Burgh was mad at Drew, but I didn't think he'd actually kick him out. "That's so not fair, "

Drew grinned in that mocking way of his. "That's one of the things I always loved about you, May. You've got this overriding sense that everything in life should be fair. "

"I do not. That's so not ... " I cringed. "Justified. "

Drew laughed and scratched behind his ear. "You remember that time we went to the MacArthurs' farm to see their puppies, and one of the pups only had three legs and Rick Mac Arthur said they were going to put it down because nobody wanted it? And you said, 'That's so not fair!' and took that puppy home without even asking. "

"Daisy, " I said. "I loved that dog. "

"I know. And she loved you so much she barked her head off whenever you left the house. "

"Yeah. One of the neighbors called the sheriff so many times my parents said I'd have to give her away if it happened again. I knew no one else would want her, so I kept her in my bedroom whenever we were gone. " I sniffed my running nose. "Then she got out of the house one day ... And something killed her. Ripped her throat right out." My own throat ached with the memory of it. "I had nightmares every night for a month. "

"It was my dad, " Drew said quietly.

"What?"

"The one who called the police all those times. " Drew wiped his nose with his shoulder. "He'd wake up in the middle of the day in one of his moods and ... " He reached under the hood and jiggled something into place. "Start the car. "

I backed away and got in the driver's seat. I said a small prayer and turned the key in the ignition. The engine chugged a couple of times and then made this sound like an asthmatic cough. I tried the key one more time and it started. I clapped my hands together and thanked the Lord.

Drew dropped the hood. "You should get out of here. " He rubbed his hands on his arms, leaving black, greasy tracks on his skin. "Have a good life. " He kicked one of the tires and walked away.

As he slipped out of the light of the streetlamp, I jumped out of the car. "That's it?" I shouted. "You're just going to take off again?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I don't, I mean, aren't you coming back to school?"

He shrugged, his back to me. "What's the point? Without that art class ... " He took another step into the darkness.

"Drew!" My frustration fired like a pottery kiln. I knew I should thank him for fixing the car – for coming along when he did. I knew I should at least say goodbye, but I couldn't make the words come.

He turned and looked at me, his body almost lost in the shadows.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere? I could drop you at the shelter so you can get some clothes and something to eat, maybe. "

"I'm not the shelter type, " Drew said. "Besides, I'm staying with some guys over there. " He thumbed in the direction of the squatty building across the street.

"Oh. " I looked at my hands. I'd actually thought he'd been following me, but he was probably just walking down the street when he saw me with Brendan. "Wait there. " I went to the car and tore open one of the boxes in the backseat. I dug around and pulled out a red-and black coat. I took it to Drew and handed it to him.

He held it for a moment, fingering the embroidered North Face logo on the front. "I can't take this, " he said, and tried to hand it hack.

I waved it away. "It's not charity. I mean, you used to be my brother. "

He flinched. "It's too nice. "

"I'd give you another one, but the others in this car are women's. Gary has the rest, so unless you want to come to the shelter?"

"No. "

Shouts echoed in the background. A pair of headlights appeared around a corner.

"This will do. " He nodded and took off into the darkness.

I stood and watched until he disappeared. I didn't even notice the headlights stop in front of my car until I heard someone call my name.

"May?" Brendan ran up to me. "Are you okay? Why didn't you stay in the car?"

I looked over his shoulder to the white truck idling in the dark. Its cabin light barely revealed Gary's face as he sat in the driver's seat. His expression was blank and stiff as if carved out of stone.

"I got the car running, " I lied.

"Good, but you're freezing. " Brendan wrapped his arms around me and held me to his chest. He smelled spicy and clean like always, but this time it didn't make me want to be closer to him.

"Can we skip bowling tonight?" I said as I pulled away. "It's getting late, and I don't feel up to it. We can go some other time. "

"Sure. But you'll owe me. " He draped his arm around my shoulder and walked me to the truck. "It's nice and warm in there, so you ride with Gary. I'll take the Corolla and then after we unload I'll drive you home. Maybe we can stop for coffee on the way back. "

"Sounds good. " But the thought of rich coffee made me ill. And that stony look on Gary's face as I climbed into the truck made me want to find a hole to bury my head in.

"He shouldn't have left you here, " Gary said under his breath.

"I know. " I held my fingers up to the heater. "But he thought he was keeping me safe. "

"Who knows what could have come along?" Gary shifted the truck into drive. He didn't speak again all night.

* * *

**Ta-da! Another chapter following the previous, just as promised! AND! Drew made an appearance! Well, I got to leave you off now, since it's lunch time. I'm not sure when I'll post up next, but I've got to focus on my Transformers Prime story and my other Contestshipping stories now :( So until I've updated those, there won't be another story. Plus, as I said, school's starting again, so things are gonna be a bit slow. 9****th**** grade's a killer...at least, it's gunna be...**

**This is,**

**Forest~Rose,**

**Rolling Out!**


	5. VERY IMPORTANT! I'm so sorry!

**I really wish that I was updating right now, but the reason why I'm out here now is that my laptop has gotten a virus =( I'm borrowing my mom's laptop now to write this, I am terribly sorry for this! I've tried to fix it, honestly, but nothing's working! I'll have to take into service once my dad's back, but until then there will be a pause in ALL my stories. I'm reallly sorry, and hope that you can forgive me when the time comes. =( **


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